


had we loved the stars too fondly

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Stardust Fusion, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: The Little Giantis a veritable hubbub of activity at night.There’s something almost noble in the way Akaashi carries himself, Tenma thinks in a manner that has his hands twitching for a pen, wanting to memorialise this moment. It’s almost as if Akaashi is emitting his own sort of haloed light; that pleasant flush gracing his cheeks is almost too fragile an image to belong to this world.Tenma wants to make the sight tangible, cherished somewhere more than just in the confines of his own mind. He hangs back, watches Akaashi dance, and dance, anddance, eager and agile and alive under the light of the moon, and remembers that stars shine brightest in the dark.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Udai Tenma
Kudos: 5
Collections: Little Giant Week 2021





	had we loved the stars too fondly

**Author's Note:**

> happy little giant week! admittedly this is at the tail end of the week, but i love tenma so much and he needs more stories about him and his happiness always.
> 
> for the prompts: star, inspiration, alternate universe and wish.

Akaashi had expressed alarm at first, a little worried at the speed of how well everything was going. Tenma can understand the sentiment. Akaashi had fallen to earth as a shining incident of light, so brightly Tenma had gone after him, not expecting to find, well. Something that decidedly did not look very much like a star at all. Akaashi had then nearly spent his first night on earth as his last, almost offered up on a platter to satisfy a witch’s appetite. He had no doubt expected his adventures to go a little differently than that.

Tenma is still a little awed that they survived. He can hardly believe that it was him who had rushed into that cursed house after Akaashi, calling his name; that it was him who had kept Akaashi behind him while he sought desperately to find a way out of the steadily growing magicked flames boxing them in at all sides and the grinning monster advancing towards them. “Hold me, and think of home,” he’d told Akaashi, grasping his hand tight.

He’s still a little awed that Akaashi had trusted him enough to listen, though neither him nor Akaashi had imagined _this_ —seeking passage aboard a pirate’s vessel, sailing through clouds and skies instead of water and sea, and learning the art of the sword under the eyes of a captain who’d done the very opposite of throwing them overboard, like Tenma had half-expected he would. He still thinks Captain Inunaki might, if only because he sees no way the captain benefits from this aside from wiping the floor with his ass during their sparring sessions, always on the deck or by the hull of the ship so there’s an audience for every instance Tenma humiliates himself.

Not that Tenma minds it, to be honest. He enjoys the challenge in the captain’s eyes, enjoys it more when he silences it with the hilt of his borrowed sword. The captain teaches Tenma to be certain of his steps, to count the beats of silence before a lunge, to stage the parry after a thrust. He teaches Tenma how to communicate with his body, how to anticipate a conversation of actions. He taps Tenma gently on the shoulder with the butt of his blade and bows to Tenma whenever he has disarmed Tenma of his sword… or, very occasionally, when _Tenma_ disarms _him_.

Akaashi always tries to stifle a laugh after as if Tenma can’t make out the curve of his lips beyond the sightly arched neck, almost hidden out of sight but not _quite_.

Akaashi learns how to wield a sword too, and he takes to it a little easily than Tenma had, to Tenma’s disgruntlement. Any star that learns to live in the world must arm themselves, really. So Akaashi does.

And then, under the light of the natural moon, nearer than Tenma has ever remembered it being, the captain teaches the both of them how to dance.

Akaashi goes first. The whispering silver silk of his kimono—a gift from the captain; Tenma too has his own sleek black-and-orange ensemble—shimmers prettily in the moon’s glow, the captain’s hands light around Akaashi’s shoulders as he guides them firmly across the upper deck in a smooth glide. There’s something almost noble in the way Akaashi carries himself, Tenma thinks in a manner that has his hands twitching for a pen, wanting to memorialise this moment. It’s almost as if Akaashi is emitting his own sort of haloed light; that pleasant flush gracing his cheeks is almost too fragile an image to belong to this world.

Tenma wants to make the sight tangible, cherished somewhere more than just in the confines of his own mind. He hangs back, watches Akaashi dance, and dance, and _dance_ , eager and agile and alive under the light of the moon, and remembers that stars shine brightest in the dark.

The crew is livelier then, too, bringing out the shamisen and an assortment of drums and flutes to the festivities, and belting out several pirate’s shanties. Tenma taps his feet to the beat but makes no move to join the bodies brushing around and up against each other in the middle of the upper deck, not until one of the pirates, a surprisingly cheerful fellow called Bokuto who’d danced with Akaashi most apart from the captain, practically pushes him into Akaashi’s arms. Tenma realises, to his dismay, how much _The Little Giant_ is a veritable hubbub of activity at night.

“Be a man, Tenma-san,” Bokuto jeers.

Akaashi quirks a smile that only widens when Tenma accepts his hand and begrudgingly makes to follow Akaashi’s lead, keeping one hand clasped in his while the other winds up on his shoulder.

“At least try to look enthusiastic, Tenma-san,” Akaashi chastises lightly.

“Sure, I’m looking forward to two minutes from now when you’ll be laughing at me,” Tenma mumbles, but his lips quirk upwards too in spite of himself.

Watching Akaashi is one thing. Actually dancing with him, trying to keep to the rhythm Akaashi’s set for them and not stepping on Akaashi’s feet is a different matter altogether.

“You seemed more graceful with the sword,” Akaashi notes after the third time Tenma almost crushes his toes.

Tenma tries very hard not to pout.

“Sorry,” he says. “Told you I was no good at this.”

“But you’ll be good at it eventually, won’t you?” When Tenma looks up, he finds Akaashi’s gaze is already on him, eyes soft. “That’s what you say in all your stories. You learn something, and you learn it well. You’ll learn this one too.”

“I _did_ say that, didn’t I?”

Tenma mulls the words in his head, feeling his disquieted mind gentle and lull. They complete one turn around the deck before Tenma realises he hasn’t stepped on Akaashi once. “Hey, did you see—”, he says, and _just_ avoids landing on Akaashi’s covered feet.

Akaashi narrows his eyes and purses his lips, but there’s a slight upwards twist hanging on the edges of them and Tenma knows he’s trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think dances are meant for me,” he remarks with a pronounced pout. “Not swords either. I’m an artist, not a swordsman.”

Akaashi automatically pinches his lips shut with his fingers, only slowly making to remove them when Tenma glares at him.

“Please stop doing that,” Tenma grumbles.

“But your pout.” Akaashi laughs this time. It warms Tenma to his bones. He thinks his eyes might be stinging a little, actually. Is that normal?

“Maybe it can be the subject of your newest novel?” Akaashi suggests, and Tenma isn’t imagining it after all, is he, that Akaashi’s shining a little bit more than he was before?

Tenma throws him a look that is as close to dirty as Tenma gets, and Akaashi chuckles. Tenma has to close his eyes briefly from the sudden glare.

“And you, Keiji?” He counters, blinking the stars out of his eyes. “What does a star think of all this—pirate ships, flying, magic transportation candles?”

“It’s, um, pretty magical,” Akaashi admits, red blooming on the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t think I’d have been able to see all this without you, Tenma-san. Thank you.”

“Oh.”

Tenma hasn’t been expecting such an earnest response. He ducks his head, resisting the urge to scratch at his neck. “It’s nothing. Wait till you see the other side of the Wall, see the rest of Japan! There aren’t any flying boats over there, but you won’t be disappointed.”

“Yes.” Akaashi brightens again, his whole face aglow. Tenma has to avert his eyes to the boots on his feet to escape the heat. “I want to see everything. It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

There’s a sharp pang in his chest, sliding between his ribs. Tenma looks up, and the light is not blinding this time. It’s simply comfortable, and Tenma wants to reach for it, make his own halo of sun. “I’ll show it to you, I promise. You’ll love it, Keiji.”

“I’m sure I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> the happier a star is, the brighter it shines.


End file.
